Author: Dr. Gloria K Vanderhorst

Why We’re Drawn To Connection and Our Love of Water

I am a lover of fountains. My attachment to them is undeniable, though its source is unclear. The sound and feel of water falling down a rocky pathway draw me in, hinting at a deeper connection.

The patio outside has a fountain. The deck off the kitchen has one too. Even the sunroom features a lovely volcanic rock fountain with a stone basin. We’ve put a little boat in that one just for fun.

Reflecting on this, I suspect the sound of moving water must be a throwback to the embryonic stage. We all begin in a pool of liquid that shifts and sways as the mother moves. Perhaps that is why young children are drawn to water. They love to splash in the pool, run through sprinklers, and float on a pond. The classic image of children swinging on a rope over a river brings an instant smile. We are all drawn to water.

Of course, some children have been made afraid of water, yet I believe the natural tendency is still to enjoy playing with it. The garden hose is often used to water your friends instead of the lawn. Becoming competent in the water is a goal for many parents of small children. I love seeing a small class of toddlers with floaty armbands in the shallow end of the pool for their beginner lessons. Just getting your head wet can be a challenge.

Our inborn affinity for water is only one example of our natural drive for connection. From the moment we are born—bonded to another person—we spend our lives seeking meaningful relationships in many different places.

The connection can be as simple as the neighborhood listserv. Through this invention, I am connected to the community. I can find a gardener referral, give away concert tickets I cannot use, and connect with a teenager to shovel the driveway and sidewalks. Professional websites connect me with colleagues and alert me to seminars and continuing education that keep me sharp. All manner of entertainment is at your fingertips on your cell phone. Clips that last a minute or two, and seminars that run for hours, are right there in your lap.

Knowledge and entertainment flow into my life just like the water in my fountains—constantly connecting me to my surroundings, to others, and to myself.

For more reflections on emotional connection and human behavior, explore articles on Psychology Today and research from Greater Good Science Center.

If you are exploring your own patterns of connection—or longing for deeper ones—therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support emotional awareness, grounding, and meaningful relationships.

I WANT TO BE SEEN

Visibility, Connection, and the Emotional Need to Matter

To be seen is to be known—and to be known is to belong. For individuals in Maryland and DC, this reflection explores how emotional visibility shapes our earliest experiences, our relationships, and our sense of self-worth.

Has this thought ever popped into your mind? This desire to be known, to be seen, is natural. We all crave attention. Our early survival depends on this. We come into the world completely helpless. I don’t know of any other creature as impotent as a newborn human. We could examine this fact at some other time, but right now, we want to focus on this desire to be seen.

When we are seen, we have the opportunity for connection. We are born connected to another human being and spend our lives seeking connection with others. When you realize this, you understand we are all connected and interdependent. Few of us can survive without this connection. You may read about the occasional hermit found deep in the forest and living off the land, but that guy is weird. And yes, I hear your question. It is a guy. There have been recorded cases of female hermits, but most are isolated for religious reasons.

Humans naturally seek connection with others. Physical survival is the initial need, yet well-known cases show that physical care is insufficient. The Spitz babies are a clear example: physically cared-for infants died for lack of social/emotional connection. We all need an emotional connection with others. The Spitz research on well-cared-for infants who die because of a lack of emotional connection is classic.

One piece of information that needs more focus is the fact that mothers have an emotional connection with the fetus. As this person grows inside, the mother pays close attention and is engaged in the emotional and physical care of this ever-developing being. Most of our focus has been on the physical care necessary for the fetus to thrive; however, this growing being needs and benefits from emotional care as well. Our bodies are truly sensitive to emotional care. Research with adults in medical situations shows that the presence of a loving spouse or friend speeds up physical healing. The mother’s interest in and connection to the fetus has a significant impact on this little being in utero. From the first awareness of a pregnancy, this little being is known and seen. Mothers and fathers communicate with the fetus and spend emotional energy focusing on this growing person. The fetus hears music from headphones placed on the mother’s belly. The fetus has stories read to it. Fathers’ attention is present in physical touch and verbal messages sent to this growing being.

You were seen long before you were visible.

Want to explore how emotional visibility and human connection shape well-being? Visit Halos Counseling’s reflections on being seen, NeuroLaunch’s guide to human connection psychology, and Psychology Today’s insights on emotional interdependence.

If you’re reflecting on visibility, emotional connection, or relational healing, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support insight, healing, and belonging.

Early Lessons in Value, Generosity, and Self-Discipline

A piggy bank is more than a container for coins, it’s a container for lessons. For individuals in Maryland and DC, this reflection explores how childhood rituals of saving, sharing, and spending shape lifelong habits of generosity, foresight, and self-worth.

Did you have one of these as a child? The piggy bank is so popular among young children. They come in a variety of sizes and colors.

I remember a small pink pig as the place where I kept my pennies. The pig’s belly had a silver disc that could be removed by inserting a nickel into a slot and giving it a quarter turn. The irony of needing a nickel to access my pennies was not lost on me. I remember that the nickel came out of my father’s pocket and went back there after the pig gave forth his belly bounty.

Where did I get the pennies? Pennies were the reward for acts of service. These would range from putting away laundry that fit in the drawers, to setting the table with all utensils correctly placed and napkins in the right spot. Other on-demand tasks were abundant, so the piggy was well stocked.

When he gave forth his bounty, there were requirements for usage. One third went to savings, one third went to charity, and I could choose the charity, leaving one third for me to spend. That seemed like a good plan overall, though I must admit there were times when I wanted to hoard all of those pennies for a special treat. Spending those pennies was easy, since we had a local grocery store just a block away. We lived in an alleyway, and the grocery was right at the end of it. Easy peasy.

So, what were my favorite treats? Mainly, anything chocolate would do, and in the summer, I liked those ice-cold orange push-up things that stained your lips and your clothes if you were not careful. Trust me, I was cautious. That stuff would not come out of a shirt, no matter what you did.

Early lessons are essential, particularly when it comes to money. I do not think many piggy banks are floating around anymore, and I wonder if elementary students have that responsibility today. Those early decisions about how to use my pennies were valuable. The division my parents imposed prepared me to consider others’ needs, imagine my future needs, and satisfy myself in the present.

That is an excellent system for living life. I am important, others are important, and the future is important for both of us. The piggy bank served a purpose.

Want to explore how childhood lessons about money shape adult habits? Visit Psychology Today’s article on teaching kids about money and values and Greater Good’s guide to how childhood lessons shape generosity.

If you’re reflecting on early lessons, financial habits, or emotional growth, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support clarity, balance, and resilience.

TROGLODYTE

Language, Logic, and the Power of Discovery

Some words are puzzles—and some are provocations. For individuals in Maryland and DC, this reflection explores how childhood curiosity, linguistic play, and cultural context shape our understanding of identity and insult.

When you are a child, adults like to challenge or tease you. Sometimes, they do this with language. They present a word, and the tone that accompanies it communicates something powerful and perhaps hurtful. Then they ask you to explain. Let’s look at this one. Hmmm. Let’s say you are in elementary school between 1st and 4th grade. The sound of this word is interesting, so you begin there, thinking of similar sounds that are familiar: dog, frog. One hopes you don’t know grog yet, but one never knows. Given the associations that you know, some animal comes to mind. You think it must be big because the word is long. So far, good thinking. It matters not whether you are right or wrong. Your logic is sound, so you keep going.

The end of this word, “dyte,” must be significant. It sounds like an important word. Also, the spelling of this word seems important. Words with “y” in them tend to be fancy or old. So, you use your elementary school knowledge to wonder if this is an animal. You think of things that rhyme with it: might, sight, light. There are many possibilities, but rhyming doesn’t seem to fit. So, consider its shape: short, squat, even. As you say it out loud, your voice rises, and intensity comes automatically. Perhaps it is a powerful word. You almost want to move when you say it. There is something emphatic about the sound. Maybe it is some powerful animal from ancient times.

Now, let’s combine these ideas. We have an animal association that comes with power and a staccato ending with a punch. Perhaps this really is an animal of some kind. It could be an ancient animal that used to walk the earth but is no longer alive. That is an excellent guess because these long-vanished animals tend to have long, complicated names.

Perhaps this is an insult. I have heard it used in the past, and clearly, it is a putdown of the other. So, you challenge the adult who has presented this puzzle to you. You ask for some context or for them to use it in a sentence. “On the train coming home, I ran into a troglodyte who ran past me and pushed his way off the train.” Aha! I am on the right track. This is an insult! A troglodyte is a person who is rough or rude. I have solved the puzzle!

Want to explore the origins and cultural evolution of the word “troglodyte”? Visit Etymology World’s guide to troglodyte, Ultimate Lexicon’s breakdown of usage and meaning, and Merriam-Webster’s definition and examples.

If you’re reflecting on language, identity, or emotional impact, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support insight, healing, and self-expression.

What Scourges, and Other Hidden Threats, Reveal About Our Past and Ourselves

What comes to mind for you when you hear the word “scourge”?

My latest thought is lanternflies. They appeared last summer in the backyard, and at first I was fascinated by their bright, intricate markings. But then I read about them. These pests are native to Vietnam, China, and India, where natural predators keep them in check. Here in Maryland and Washington, DC, not so much. A friend believes local birds will eventually eat them, reducing their population. I worry it won’t happen soon enough to save my young birch trees.

Scourges have existed since the beginning of time, and some modern ones cause real havoc. The kudzu vine now blankets highways, trees, buildings, and power lines. Ironically, power lines might be better buried underground than left exposed.

A scourge is, in fact, an instrument of pain—a whip with added thongs to cut and tear flesh. Used for punishment or even self‑mutilation, these whips are brutal. Right now, I wish I could use one on those flies.

The word “scourge” can describe both a person and an instrument. When someone causes great suffering or destruction, we call them a scourge. Attila the Hun, for example, devastated people and property. Any dictator can be a scourge to those who suffer under their rule.

The lanternflies in my backyard likely arrived hidden in some edible cargo, such as fruit. They hid in plain sight. Our personal enemies can be the same—sometimes hiding right before us.

The parent meant to protect us can be monstrous and cruel. Cruelty may be overt—hitting and whipping—or covert, such as deception, undermining, or cloying solicitation that lulls us into comfort before betrayal. These histories get buried deep in our memories. Yet, even boxed up and unrecognized, they can leap into the present and throw us off.

A clear sign of the past resurfacing is repeated behavior that troubles you or a significant family member. When a behavior causes stress for others, the past is intruding. You want to uncover its history and squish it like a bug.

For more reflections on emotional development and the impact of past experiences, explore articles on Psychology Today and research from Greater Good Science Center.

If you recognize patterns resurfacing in your own life, therapy can help you understand where they began—and how to change them. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support emotional healing and healthier relationships.

Why Talking About the End‑of‑Life Might Be One of the Healthiest Things We Do

It may feel grim, but preparing for the end of life is one of the most meaningful acts of clarity, courage, and love we can offer ourselves and the people who will one day carry out our wishes.

Ok, grim subject, I know. Yet an important one that seems to get glossed over quickly.

A recent Washington Post article details the process of a group of women who meet regularly to discuss the end. What a brilliant idea. First, you get to take yourself seriously and really think about this. We are all going to die, and so far, none of us has come back, though some have frozen their bodies, or parts thereof, for that very event. But that is another essay.

Back to the ladies. Their discussions provide a safe space and real feedback on a range of end‑of‑life topics. Who do you pick as the decision maker if you are not capable? How and where do you want to be buried? What kind of service do you want and why? There are tons of questions like these to face when looking at the end of your life.

There are also numerous decisions to be made as you head toward the end of your life. Do you stay in your present place or move? Do you want extraordinary measures taken to keep you breathing, or not? Who do you want to oversee your estate after you die? Why would you choose this person over that person? What if you do not have children, or they are not capable? Who steps into the decision‑making position then?

I mean, the issues can get right down to: What do you want to wear in your casket? Do you want a casket? If you are cremated and turn into ashes, what becomes of them?

One thing is for certain. All of us will die at some point and in some way. If we are fortunate enough to live a long life and make it into our 80s or 90s or beyond, how will we spend those last years? I know friends who want to travel to the end and die with their boots on. I know friends who want to snuggle up on the couch with a good book and go headfirst into the pages. I even know a few who are stockpiling lethal medicines so they can take themselves out at any point in time. We all have our desires.

The point is that sharing those desires is a great idea. These ladies, who have made themselves vulnerable by sharing their stories with a journalist, have real courage. Not many of us invite the public into our private lives. I admire them and thank them for making discussions about end‑of‑life decisions normal.

We are all headed there, so why not talk about it and be more planful? Why not get input from trusted friends, just like you did when planning your wedding or celebrating the birth of your first child? Why do this end‑of‑life planning alone? This is a real thing, so let us talk about it.

Want to explore more about end‑of‑life planning, emotional preparation, and meaning‑making? Visit Psychology Today’s reflections on aging and transitions and Greater Good’s research on mortality, purpose, and connection.

If thinking about these questions brings up emotion, uncertainty, or a desire for clarity, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support reflection, planning, and emotional peace.

What Maryland and DC’s Early Spring Teaches Us About Change, Loss, and Renewal

I love this time of year. Even the quick changes in weather are interesting.

This morning, the rain was fierce for two to three hours. If you were outside, you would be drenched within minutes. The rain poured so fast you could barely see through it. Yet just two hours later, the clouds drifted away, the sun bathed the windows in light, and a gentle breeze moved through the open rooms. Where are we? How can things change so fast?

Sometimes the volatility of the weather feels like the way my own moods shift—one moment overwhelming and all‑consuming, and the next unexpectedly peaceful. It makes me wonder whether nature’s abrupt transformations echo the rapid changes I feel inside, and whether accepting them is simply part of living through the seasons.

The storm also removed the last remnants of the cherry blossoms on the big tree out front. I miss the beautiful pink blossoms that are now just a pile of soggy mash on the driveway, sticking to shoes and tracking into the house. Those gorgeous things are now a nuisance. How can this be?

The cherry blossoms have always been more than a pretty sight. They are the season’s first promise—delicate, bright, and hopeful—arriving just when the world feels ready to wake up again. Seeing them scattered in the rain, their beauty gone so quickly, makes me think about how quickly wonderful moments slip away. Losing them stirs up a deep nostalgia, a reminder that everything I love is temporary, and that every beautiful moment, no matter how vibrant, will eventually pass. Their cycle of blooming and falling brings both loss and a gentle acceptance, as if nature is teaching me how to let go with grace.

This abrupt shift happens in other ways as well. The Sherry Baby orchid in the side window is dropping blossoms everywhere, and if you don’t pick them up soon, they stain the table and make a mess. What was most enjoyable only a short while ago is now an annoyance.

Perhaps this is the point. Pleasantries are fleeting, turning into memories we revisit but can never retain—much like cherry blossoms that bloom briefly and fade. I think about moments in my own life that slipped away too quickly: a conversation on a park bench I wished could have lasted longer, or a short visit from an old friend who moved away. Sometimes a certain laugh or smell brings those memories back for just a flash before they disappear again. Maybe their impermanence is what makes them precious.

Spring marks the start of a new season of growth and beauty that lasts only a short while before giving way to the next. It brings joy and memories that can be accessed at any time of year. We take pictures, record scenes, store memories, write stories, or send letters to friends in the desert who do not get to see the cherry trees.

In spring, everything starts over. Inspired, I begin again too.

I will start with cleaning out my closet. An object or a memory—it makes no difference. All must be reviewed and sorted. They call it spring cleaning for a reason. Everything accumulated over the winter is up for investigation. I have too many blankets and can never use them all. The charitable organization down the road will be glad to have them. My closet needs sorting, and several dresses and outfits will go to the local secondhand shop to find a new life.

As I sort through these belongings, I notice a mix of feelings bubbling up. Holding an old sweater, I remember the comfort it gave me in difficult moments and wonder if someone else will feel the same warmth. Some things are easy to let go of, while others tug at me, recalling memories I almost forgot. A single scarf or pair of shoes can bring back a flood of images from years ago. Sometimes I hesitate, feeling resistance to parting with pieces that carry a story. Yet as each item leaves the closet, I feel a gradual sense of relief and lightness—as though I’m making room for something new within myself as well.

If the cherry tree can start over, embracing change and renewal each season, so can I.

For more reflections on emotional growth and seasonal transitions, explore articles on Psychology Today and research from Greater Good Science Center.

If you are navigating your own season of change, therapy can help you understand what to release and what to carry forward. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support emotional renewal and personal growth.

How Illness, Emotion, and Human History All Run a Little Hot – Temperature

Temperature isn’t just a number on a thermometer. For individuals in Maryland and DC, this reflection explores how heat, physical or emotional, reveals what’s happening beneath the surface.

I remember being a little kid and feeling sick. Mother, of course, got out the thermometer. You had to hold the thing in your mouth for a few minutes. As a kid, that is not easy. First, you don’t want to do this at all. I am glad they now have that “gun”-looking thing that you point at the forehead, and it reads your temperature. Second, the time you have to hold it in your mouth seems like an eternity. Kids are not good with eternity. You fidget and want to escape.

Germs do not care who you are or what you have planned for your day. They attack in their own time frame.

Remember that class trip in elementary school when you were excited to go with your friends for an overnight? Remember the measles that kept you home? Come on! Measles? Really? Where did that come from? Probably Richard W.—he seemed to carry every germ known to man.

Of course, illness is not the only thing that can jack up our temperature. Get a group together and throw out a controversial topic, and the room gets hot pretty fast. What are your hot buttons?

Our neighborhood has a hot topic traveling around the listserv. Someone wants to change the rules so that multi‑unit dwellings can invade this quaint neighborhood of individual houses. That is raising the temperature of most, if not all, of the homeowners. Think about the scene. Your three‑bedroom rancher, and on the neighboring lot will stand a four‑story high‑rise with eight apartments. The zoning will change to allow a tiny setback and no yard on the front, back, or sides of this brick monster. Clearly, the neighborhood will soon be filled with these smaller apartment buildings.

Where does this desire for an individual dwelling come from? Is it just a modern phenomenon? Not really. Humans have been building individual dwellings since 400,000 BC.

The earliest evidence of individual dwellings for families comes from a region of France where hunter‑gatherers built shelters or huts for their families. The desire to huddle together as a family runs deep.

Want to explore more about emotional triggers, community dynamics, and how our brains respond to stress? Visit Psychology Today’s reflections on emotional regulation and Greater Good’s research on belonging and human connection.

If this reflection stirs thoughts about stress, boundaries, or emotional temperature in your own life, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support clarity, grounding, and emotional resilience.